Between 1984 and 2015 Inquiring Mind was a semi-annual print journal devoted to the transmission of the buddhadharma to the West. The archive contains all thirty-one years of Inquiring Mind interviews, essays, poetry, art and more – currently housed at the Sati Center for Buddhist Studies. Please please consider donating to help with ongoing issues to keep the site running.
The Buddha often described his teaching as “gradual training, gradual practice that brings gradual development.” Accordingly, the classical paradigm of the path moves from ethical behavior to concentration to wisdom and from there to wisdom. liberation. But we also find cases in the texts that do not fit this model, accounts of people who achieve realization in the midst of anxiety and emotional turmoil. Such cases throw a revealing spotlight on the nature of spiritual realization. They suggest that there is another trajectory beyond the standard paradigm that involves sheer unpredictability.
Perhaps the best-known example is the story of Kisagotami, the grief-stricken mother who asked the Buddha to heal her dead son. The Buddha assured him that he would if he brought him some mustard seeds from a home where no one had ever died. When every family she called told her they had lost a loved one, Kisagotami realized she was not alone in her grief and returned to the Buddha a much wiser woman. He quickly reached the first stage of awakening and soon completed his practice by attaining the state of arahant.
Another woman of the Buddha’s time who suffered even more tragic losses than Kisagotami was Patacara, the only daughter of a wealthy Savatthi family. Against her parents’ wishes, Patacara eloped with one of the household servants, a disgraceful act in class-conscious India. The couple settled deep in the countryside, where Patacara soon gave birth to a son. A few years later, a second son was born. Heartbroken, she decided to return to her parents’ house with her husband and sons to beg for forgiveness. On the way, her husband was bitten by a snake and fell down dead. Then the baby boy was pounced upon by a hawk and carried away, and the other boy was swept away by the swollen river. When Patacara reached Savatthi, deeply distressed, worse news awaited him. He learned that his family home had collapsed during a heavy rain the night before, killing his parents and brother. In the distance, he saw smoke rising from the pyre where all three had been cremated.
Losing loved ones—all within a few days—was too much for Patacara, and his mind snapped. She threw off her clothes and entered Savatthi naked, crying and bawling. People taunted her and threw sticks at her and called her a mad woman. But Patacara’s steps led him to the Jetavana monastery, where the Buddha was giving a discourse. The Buddha commanded, “Restore your sanity, woman,” and she immediately calmed down. He then explained that not only in this life had he shed tears for the loss of his sons, but in the round before the beginning of rebirths he had shed more tears than the waters of the ocean. By the end of the speech, Patacara had achieved the fruit of stream entry. She joined the Order of Bhikkhunis, practiced vigorously, and within a short time attained the state of arahant. The Buddha appointed her as the very first nun among the masters of the monastic discipline.
A nun named Siha reached arahant status on the verge of despair. In his poems a Therigatha (the collection in the Pali canon is often translated as Poems of the older nuns), Siha says that during her seven years as a nun, she was so tormented by sensual desire that she did not feel a moment of peace. Finally, he decided he had reached his limit. He took a rope and went into the forest. He made a noose, tied the rope to a tree branch and slipped the noose around his neck. It was then that his mind was freed from all impurities and he returned to the monastery as an arahant.
The ascetic Bahiya Daruciriya suffered no personal loss, but his story is also marked by a sudden awakening in the midst of inner agitation. Bahiya lived as a hermit in Supparaka, along the west coast of India, far from the eastern provinces where the Buddha lived. Bahiya must have had a deep spiritual experience because he believed he was either an arahant or on the path to arahantship. But one day a benevolent deity shattered his confidence and told him that he had achieved nothing of real worth. The deity urged him to go to Savatthi to see the Buddha. Bahiya set off at once, covering the whole journey on foot, stopping only to rest every evening. He met the Buddha in the city in almsgiving and sincerely asked for teachings. The Buddha twice denied that the almshouse was not a suitable venue for teaching. But Bahiya insisted, “Who knows how long I have to live?” Finally Buddha agreed. He gave Bahiya a teaching so profound that as soon as he heard it, his mind was freed. Bahiya was killed by a wild cow while searching for the robe and bowl needed to become a monk. But even though he did not receive formal ordination, the Buddha declared him to be the very first monk who quickly recognized him.
Other examples of sudden transformation and rapid attainment can be found in the suttas and commentaries. One was Angulimala, a serial killer whom the Buddha transformed into a gentle and compassionate monk. Another was Khema, the proud consort of King Bimbisara, who quickly attained arahant status when the Buddha revealed to him the impermanence of beauty. And yet another Santati minister whose favorite dancer died while dancing in front of his eyes. Distressed and grief-stricken, he came to the Buddha and after hearing a short discourse became an arahant.
The possibility of a sudden breakthrough in the midst of confusion and anxiety raises interesting questions about the psychology of awakening. We can be sure that these students founded their realizations with their actions in their previous lives. But their practice in previous lives was like a collection of fuel. We have yet to explain what started the process of burning, what started the attainment in this present life. One of the key factors may have been the role of the Buddha, who saw deeply into the hearts of his students and taught the Dhamma precisely in order to awaken their hidden potential.
But I think there was something else about it, which I would describe as the involuntary stripping away of all familiar points of reference, the sudden loss of everything one relies on to give meaning to one’s everyday life. For Kisagotami, it was the death of his beloved son; For Patacara, the loss of all family members; For Siha, the possibility of suicide; For Bahiya, the shock of realizing that the result achieved was a mistake; For Angulimala, the senseless compulsion to continue killing; For Khema, the sudden realization that her beauty is fading; For Santati, the shocking encounter with the face of death. In each case, the triggering event was different, but in these cases, a never-before-seen void opened up.
Iit is this exposure, this vulnerability, the loss of position that drives the final leap from “this shore,” from the realm of impermanence, suffering, and death, to the “farther shore,” into birthlessness and deathlessness, the realm of transcendent freedom.
Losing all points of reference means becoming completely exposed and vulnerable. It means taking a look at the uncertainty that lies forever beneath our feet. And I would say that it is this exposure, this vulnerability, the loss of position that drives the final leap from “this shore,” from the realm of impermanence, suffering, and death, to “the other side,” to birthlessness and immortality, to the realm of transcendent freedom.
Such stories should not be regarded merely as wonderful tales of the past, depicting events that were possible when the Buddha lived but are beyond our reach at present. Instead, we can read them as lessons with deep personal relevance. They indicate that in the midst of our own anxiety, confusion, or simply banality, our prospects for spiritual growth and even awakening are never dim. If ordinary people who have suffered from grief, confusion, pride, and despair in the past have completed their training and attained realization, then there is always hope for us. No matter how slow our progress may seem, no matter how formidable the obstacles we encounter, if we remain calm on the path and continue diligently, we can be sure that we are getting closer and closer to the goal.
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Sources: Therigatha, Therigatha Commentary, Dhammapada Commentary, the Udana, the Angulimala Sutta (Majjhima Nikaya 86).
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Interview with Bhikkhu Bodhi: Translator of the Buddha
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